Restraint
by J. Metropolis
Summary: Flynn Rider did not like being tied down, or so he thought. *T for innuendo*
1. Chapter 1

**Restraint**

Flynn Rider did not like being tied down, or so he thought. He later discovered, like so many other things, that he was wrong about that too. She was like that. She had a way of proving him wrong without even trying.

He was not conscious of it at the time. At the time he was in a bind. At the time, he was in a situation. He was focused on trying to loosen those weird strands so he could extricate himself from them, find his satchel and move on with his business. The business of making himself enormously rich. He had a plan and it involved a palm tree, some blessed solitude and most importantly, lots and lots of money.

Money had a way of distracting him. It enraptured him like nothing else. It took precedence over any other thought, over any other need. It was his Siren Song. It was his calling. It had been at the time, anyway. Later, he'd have another song, but right now that song was titled Money. So he wasn't thinking about the appeal of his circumstances.

Sure, he thought she was pretty. But he'd had more than his fair share of pretty women, so pretty women didn't hold his attention the way they did other men - lesser men, he thought. He had tried to charm his way out of his constraints. But even that had held no emotional component. Wooing her had been a means to an end, a means to get to his mistress, his first and only love. Money.

It was not until after they had their near death experience, his _first_ near death experience with her. Well, he wasn't really sure if the second one counted as a "near death" experience since he had in fact died but he had also survived and one always survives a near death experience, but he was getting a head of himself. Regardless, it was not until they almost met an untimely and watery grave that he changed his mind about her.

It had been the first time he had revealed himself to someone, his true self, well, his true name anyway, since he'd adopted a new persona. He was not sure if that was the first time he trusted her. He had not expected to survive their ordeal so he threw caution to the wind and made this little revelation. He was only trying cheer her up. The fact that they had survived sort of forced his hand on the whole trust issue.

No, it wasn't until that night when they sat by the campfire that he purposely told her something about himself. She had trusted him with a closely guarded secret and he had shared something about his own life, his prior life, with her. She was so pretty, no, by then she was beautiful. He had not noticed how beautiful she was until that moment by fire when she held his gaze. Later that night she told him she liked him, his true "him" not some alter ego. It felt nice. It had made him happy.

So as he was falling asleep that night his thoughts drifted back to that morning. They drifted back to that green chair and those soften golden tresses. He had changed his mind about her hair too. Upon first inspection, he had found it a bit unnatural, a bit unnerving. Sure, he was spooked by the fact that it happened to glow. But it had also saved his life and maybe even his hand. Who knows what would have happened if that cut had gotten infected. So he was feeling appreciative and he was looking at her hair in a whole new light, _ahem_, so to speak.

Under these circumstances being tied down to a chair, being tied down by _her_, seemed rather appealing. He might even enjoy it. Thinking back on it then, in the safety of their makeshift campsite, she had been rather cute when she was making demands, threatening him with her little frying pan (the frying pan seemed less menacing now that she was unlikely to bludgeon him with it). He thought he might like the whole predicament, the hair, not the frying pan.

Maybe he might even be able to persuade her to recreate the event when he brought her back to her Tower, he thought. Except, bringing her back to that place, well, he didn't like the sound of that. Maybe it was just what she had told him about it. Thinking back on what she had said, it was starting to sound more like a prison. Now, he _really_ didn't like the idea of taking her back. Maybe he'd talk to her about it tomorrow, after that lantern thing. His thoughts then turned to her and he smiled. She was rather pleasant, she smelled nice and she was a good listener. That was the first night he drifted off to sleep thinking of her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

It was years later that he approached the subject with her. During their courtship she had been unavailable to him. After they wed, they had so much ground to makeup for that he wasn't even thinking about it. He took his only official duty as Prince Consort _very_ seriously. Six months later they'd learned she was expecting. And then, well it just felt wrong to ask her then in her condition. But eventually he did get around to asking for it. And she really did make him ask for it.

He was sitting down on their bed propped up by pillows. She was towering over him, his rough hands gripping her tiny waist. He had planned it all out. He'd used his formidable plotting skills in this new venture and had decided to approach this ordeal in a cool, detached manner. He'd make her think it was her idea and that he was just going along with it. But when he casually alluded to it, she had played dumb. He tried rewording it but she still pretended she did not understand.

"Oh, _Come on_! You want me to spell it out for you?," he protested. "Yup," she responded with a mischievous smile. He crossed his arms over his chest and furrowed his eyebrows. "Now, you're just being mean," he scowled.

But he did ask for it and when he did she smugly looked down at him from her perch like the cat who ate the canary. It turned out his suspicions were right, he did rather enjoy it.

After that he did not mind asking. It turned out he liked that part too. She would readily agree but he liked to beg her. He liked to entice her with certain favors, making her promises he had every intention of promptly fulfilling.

It was all well and good until she got the misguided notion that he would enjoy seeing her that way too. Their bed was too large for her to use the bedposts. So she fastened dark blue silk little fabric scraps on a couple of the large wooden flower petals carved into their intricate headboard. She slipped her delicate hands inside the loose little loops and patiently waited for him. When he walked in, he saw a stark naked Princess tied to their bed. She had hoped to surprise him but he just looked shocked. His mouth was agape, his eyes opened wide. He dropped the book he was carrying and immediately rushed to her side, frantically removing her silk binds and carelessly dropping them on the parquet floor.

After he'd freed her, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to his chest. As he laid down on their bed, he kissed her shorn locks before resting his chin on top of her head. She could feel his accelerated heartbeat as he pressed her against his chest. "I can't do that with you like that Rapunzel," he told her softly. She knew he was serious, he was using her given name. "Please don't ask me to. I just can't," he trembled.

Seeing her that way had triggered the Awful Memory. The one he always tried to suppress. The one that at times still managed to wake him in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. The memory of her bound and gagged in the Tower, her eyes wide with terror, her mouth struggling to warn him. It had ruined the plans she had for him for that evening.

That night he held her tight, tighter the usual. She fell asleep first, he followed hours later from sheer exhaustion.

That night had changed his perspective. He never asked for it again. It no longer appealed to him. He no longer wanted to feel restraint.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>I think this might be teetering on the "T" / "M" line. Let me know if you think I should change the rating and I will.


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